


Dare

by redscudery



Series: Scudery's Saturday Night Fic Fest [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boys Kissing, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Military, Military Kink, Pre-Canon, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscudery/pseuds/redscudery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, when it’s that time of day where the last sunlight is shining into their shitty apartment, Lyons looks at him with no expression at all, and Bainbridge knows.</p><p>For the Sherlock Rare Pair Bingo prompt "gold".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Provocatrixxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Provocatrixxx/gifts).



Bainbridge never knows how he first got up the stones to kiss Lyons. Now, today, even when he’s balls-deep inside him, their mouths soft and needy, breathing each other’s air, he marvels at his effrontery and grips Lyons harder to make sure he’s real.

Lyons, for his part, always laughs it off when Bainbridge brings it up, but sometimes, when it’s that time of day where the last sunlight is shining into their shitty apartment, he looks at him with no expression at all, and Bainbridge knows.

Bainbridge remembers.

Basic training, 2011. They’d just built a bridge and then blown it up; they were punchy, exhausted, and everything reeked of cordite and sweat. Lyons, who had watched the explosion with a disturbingly intent gaze, has been giggling maniacally off and on. Bainbridge--whose disturbingly intent gazes are saved for Lyons, mostly, though he hopes nobody notices--is starting to feel concerned for his comrade’s sanity.

Well, and his own. They’re supposed to wash in the river, and Lyons is standing on the bank, barefoot in the grass. He’s shirtless, his torso shining gold in the dying light, and Bainbridge keeps having to look away, because even taking Lyons’ very questionable attitude towards explosives into consideration, he’s everything Bainbridge could ever want.

“Bainbridge!” Lyons shouts, and oh god, he’s nude now. Bainbridge considers just jumping into the river clothed to avoid any embarrassment, but by the time he convinces himself this is a bad idea, Lyons is out again.   
This is not an improvement. The standard-issue towel hides very little, and now Lyons is coming towards him. He watches despite himself, marvels at the droplets of water along Lyons’ shoulders and arms, and it’s almost a shock when Lyons says, right in his space,

“You stink, Bainbridge.  Get in the river.” His mouth is red, and he’s smiling.

“I can’t,” Bainbridge whispers, and then Lyons says something he doesn’t hear and then, improbably, Bainbridge’s body  moves of its own accord and simply bends his lips to Lyons’.

Lyons doesn’t move for a moment, and neither does Bainbridge; in retrospect, Bainbridge thinks, they must have looked utterly ridiculous standing there, mouths touching, but at that moment Bainbridge had been totally unable to move.

“You fucker,” Lyons says suddenly, without pulling away,and Bainbridge feels a split-second of ice in his veins before he realizes that if Lyons were really angry he’d have stepped back by now, and so he goes for it, all in. Cupping the back of Lyons’ head, he kisses him--not well, never well, he’s too shaky for that--but he tastes him, breathes him in, and Lyons lets him, opening his mouth and melting into him until Bainbridge’s world is nothing but cool skin and warm kisses.

Later, of course, there are more kisses, and secret meetings in corners and testing of the limits of the camp bed, but it is this first, golden, fragile embrace that Bainbridge fears will fall away from his memory, a kiss that almost did not happen.

 

 


End file.
